Chương 4: Azog the Defiler

Narzug wanted to return to his forge as quickly as possible. He couldn't bear knowing that his axe lay half-finished in the forge. Consequently, he had himself carried back to his forge swiftly.

Upon arrival, he saw a huge pile of various materials. Next to it stood a small old orc in a dark robe. Narzug immediately noticed the differences from the other orcs. The specimen before him had dark, almost black skin, with veins standing out in the deepest night black, slowly pulsing. Also striking were the blood-red rune tattoos that adorned his entire body. If Narzug could correctly interpret these runes, with the help of his years-cultivated Reddit knowledge, these runes were written in the dark language of Mordor. Additionally, the orc seemed to draw the darkness around him. One might almost think the darkness was playing with him, gently caressing his skin and pulsating in rhythm with his veins. His eyes glowed blood-red from his skull.

"Master Narzug," the orc bowed deeply and introduced himself: "My name is Morgash Shadowcrow. I was the shaman of the Great Goblin and also his closest advisor."

Narzug immediately understood that the orc before him was the brains behind the brawn of the Great Orc.

"What is an orc shaman? I've never heard of this orc group?"

"Orc shamans are the best-kept secret of our race. If you wish, I can soon reveal more of our secrets to you. Now that you are a chieftain, you are entitled to this knowledge. But I have been informed you need materials for a weapon. I have brought with me the best materials from our stock. What exactly do you need, chieftain?" Morgash asked.

Narzug fetched the axe head and showed it to the shaman.

"Oh, what incredible hatred you must have felt while forging this piece. And this material? Originally elven but almost perfectly corrupted by your hatred... While examining this axe head, Master Narzug i have to say you might have talent for the way of the shaman. With a few runes in the black speech, the corruption of the weapon would be complete. If you wish, I can suggest some materials for your weapon and later engrave runes into it to complete it. Or even better, you do it and I show you how..." Without waiting for an answer, Morgash began excitedly rummaging through the pile. Finally, he placed a large bone, a piece of leather, and two large teeth on a table.

He explained: "The thigh bone of a dwarven lord of forgotten times for the weapon's handle. Wrapped in the tanned skin of a high elf from Gondolin and two teeth of a large warg. They would perfectly round off and complete the hatred of your weapon."

Narzug was confused: "What do you mean when you speak of the hatred of my weapon?"

"Then consider this your first lesson in the ways of the orc shamans. In every living being, a myriad of emotions swirl. With much practice, we can harness these emotions, strengthen ourselves with them, and devour them. This is true not only for us orcs. Any living being with a soul can master this ability. The elves, for example, strengthen themselves with warm feelings like hope and happiness. We orcs, as their antithesis, with cold feelings like fear, anger, and hatred. While forging this weapon, you felt an incredibly strong hatred towards all life in this world and let it flow into the axe head. This weapon now feels hatred towards everything and everyone except you. With a little practice, you can use these feelings to strengthen yourself and the weapon. Therefore, I chose the bone and the skin of two positive beings and your hatred and the teeth of a negative being for your weapon. Thus, the balance of your weapon would be created with these materials, and its hatred can flow freely. Of course, I can only make suggestions, not commands."

Full of amazement, Narzug looked at Morgash while he shared knowledge he had never heard before. In the movies, there were no orc shamans, and something like this magic of emotions was also not discussed. He took the bone, the skin, and the teeth in hand and thought about how to best process them. A plan quickly formed in his head, and he began to work. He didn't even notice that Morgash had left the room. Once again, Narzug found himself in a trance while he completed his weapon. Now only the runes that Morgash wanted to engrave together with him were missing. Narzug searched the cave with his eyes but could not find the shaman anywhere. The pile of materials had also disappeared.

Only a small piece of parchment showed that Narzug hadn't dreamed.

Let's meet at your throne when you are finished. There are important developments that require your attention. I will come.

Narzug took off his leather apron and tied his axe to his waist with a strip of cloth. With his muscular body and the axe, Narzug immediately looked like a different orc. The master blacksmith was gone, and the chieftain of the Misty Mountain orcs had emerged. He strode confidently through the door and kicked Tragar in the stomach as he slept in front of his door.

"Tragar, call for my litter and a few orcs and take me to my throne."

---

Half an hour later, Narzug sat on his throne for the first time. Out of nowhere, Morgash appeared beside him and bowed deeply.

"Master, it's good that you were able to complete your weapon. Unfortunately, political issues have arisen that require your attention. We have guests from Moria; Azog the Defiler has demanded your attention. I've been able to put him off so far, but I'm afraid you should meet him as soon as possible."

Narzug realized that the world he was in resembled the movies more than the books, or at least contained a mixture of both.

He knew that in the books, Azog was described as a great orc who killed Thrór, the grandfather of Thorin Oakenshield, in the year 2790 of the Third Age, which eventually led to the war between dwarves and orcs. Azog himself was killed in the books in the year 2799 at the Battle of Azanulbizar by Dáin Ironfoot.

Here, however, Azog was still alive and kicking, thus the Azog the Defiler from the movies.

"No problem, Morgash, go ahead and call him. And in the meantime, everyone starts singing our favorite song by Larry the Bard to properly welcome Azog."

🎶

Clap, snap, the black crack

Grip, grab, pinch, and nab

🎶

As Azog walked and listened to the music, he analyzed with eagle eyes the orc sitting on the throne in the middle of the cave. He had already heard much about Narzug the Head-Ripper during his short time here. Apparently, he was said to be a master smith and strong enough to rip off an orc's head with his hands. Not that he couldn't do that himself, but for a small cave orc like those in the Misty Mountains, that was quite an achievement. Yet it quickly became clear to him that Narzug was not like the other orcs from the Misty Mountains. Tall with an upright posture, muscular with scars that spoke of his bravery. He was definitely, like Azog himself, a Gundabad Orc. He exuded an incredible malevolence that even Azog could not simply ignore. And next to him, he recognized the orc shaman again, the one who had been holding him out so far. According to the shaman, Narzug had finished his weapon, which immediately caught Azogs eye. A large, sinister-looking axe that practically screamed for the blood of its enemies, leaned casually against the broad shoulder of the orc on the throne. A weapon worthy of a strong ruler. If Azog hadn't felt the incredible malevolence of Narzug, he would have long tried to win the weapon in combat, but he was cautious. What Azog could not yet know was that this malevolence did not come from Narzug himself, but from the said axe. The hatred and corruption of the weapon were almost visible to the naked eye after its completion. Even Morgash could not imagine what kind of monstrosity he and Narzug would create after engraving the runes in the Black Speech.

As Azog approached Narzug, the latter rose and raised both arms in an almost exaggeratedly friendly gesture and greeted Azog: "Welcome Azog the Defiler! Your misdeeds precede you. What can Goblin-town do for the leader of Moria, and even one of the mighty Gundabad orcs?" and bowed mockingly.

"Narzug the Head-Ripper," growled Azog, "I am seeking an alliance. Now that one of my Gundabad brothers is the chieftain of the Misty Mountains orcs, I thought it was time to form a great orc alliance. War is already calling. If I'm not mistaken, Durin's folk have killed some of your orcs. I have the perfect plan to finally make them all pay."

"That's new to me. So, I am a Gundabad-Orc as well," thought Narzug and replied, "The dwarves have indeed caused trouble here. However, that was still under the Great Goblin. But I am not averse to an alliance. Both the Moria-Orcs and my Misty Mountain-Orcs could benefit from it."

Azog, who originally planned to subdue the Great Goblin, had changed his plan at the sight of Narzug. Although Azog did not look like it, he was not stupid. He quickly realized that he could achieve more through an alliance than through a fight, and thus changed his tactics.

"If you really think so, come to Dol Guldur in 30 nights. There, I will meet with my captains to devise our strategy. If you mean your words seriously, we will meet there. If not, I, and thus on behalf of the Moria-Orcs, will consider this as a declaration of war from the Misty Mountain-Orcs." With these words, Azog turned and headed towards the exit. With the words, "Take the shaman with you, a little glimpse into the future never hurts..." he disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.

Narzug gritted his teeth. Being dismissed like that did not suit him at all. "Morgash, come with me! We have 30 days to bring my axe to true perfection. Besides, you still owe me one or two lessons about the ways of the shamans."

Together, they went into a nearby cave where they could have some peace from the clamor of the other orcs.

"Dol Guldur. The current seat of the soul, or rather the spirit, I'm not sure, of Sauron. This could become interesting. I should definitely become as strong as possible in the next 30 days."

With these thoughts, Narzug threw himself into working with Morgash to engrave the runes into the axe.

----

Three days later, the heads of many creatures across Middle-earth turned towards the Misty Mountains. An incredible, dark, clinging malevolence spread from there through all the lands. Carried far by the wind, it painted a picture of a dark future.

Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and many others felt a cold shiver down their spines. "Has he awakened again?" Galadriel wondered aloud. "No, this is not one of the ancient evils of Middle-earth. A new malevolence has awakened in the dark tunnels of the Misty Mountains. It heralds a new age of darkness on the horizon!"

---

And as Lady Galadriel realized she was alone, she looked around furtively and than cursed loudly: "I'm getting too old for this shit!"